STORM WARNING
Chapters 11 - 15
A Bubble Gum Crucible/Highlander Xover Fanfic - Third in the Series
By Craig A. Reed Jr. (trboturtle@aol.com) |
Bubble Gum Crisis is copyrighted Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc.
Highlander, the specific concepts of Immortality, the characters of Duncan MacLeod, Amanda,
Joe Dawson, and the Hunters are the property of Rysher Entertainment. I am just borrowing
the characters for a little while for non-monetary reasons. I can be contacted at the Email
address above. C&C will be accepted, out and out flames will result in a Boomer or two
being sent after you.
Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe.....
Chapter 11
Sylia's Apartment
April 10, 2036
12:06pm
Priss crawled through the narrow shaft, careful to keep her head down. Is GEMON
behind this attack? she thought. No, those guys were humans, not Boomers. If GENOM
was behind this, they're sent half a dozen Boomers, and trash the entire building!
She reached the end of the shaft and opened a small panel on the right hand side
of the shaft. Another palmprint reader sat there ready for use. She placed her hand
against the reader. Two seconds later, a large section of the wall in front of her slid
silently out of the way.
Priss climbed out of the shaft and into the room. It was a small room, with steel
walls lined with several sets of shelves holding a small arsenal in case of emergency.
A sliding door was set in the far wall, leading to the part of the building housing
the Knight Sabers' headquarters. Priss went over to a small intercom on the wall. She
punched in a two digit code on the numberpad and said, "Linna, can you hear me?"
//Right here, Priss,// Linna replied quickly. //Are you all right? We heard the
shots and explosions.//
"I'm fine. I made it to the armory, and that's where I am right now. Are you and
Natalia safe?"
//Yes. We're in the computer room, and the doors sealed. Any idea what's going
on?//
"None," replied Priss, grabbing several magazines for her pistol from a nearby
shelf. "But whoever these guys are, they're pros. Did you call the police?"
//Yes, but I don't know how long it'll take for them to get here.//
"Did you get hold of Sylia?"
//Yes. She's on her way up.//
Priss shoved most of the magazines into the pockets of her jacket, then replaced
the empty clip in her pistol with a fresh magazine. "Stay where you are. I'm going to
keep those guys busy."
Linna's voice became somewhat shrill. //Are you crazy? You said these guys were
pros!//
"And we can't allow them to search the entire floor," countered Priss. "We can't
risk them stumbling across the...." She remembered that Linna wasn't alone, and quickly
continued, "....Safe and other valuables."
Linna picked up on Priss sudden change in words. //But that area is locked down -
they can't get through the security system in time!//
"We don't know that."
//I can't talk you out of this, can I?//
"No. And before you ask, stay with Natalia."
//But -//
"No time for arguments." Priss pulled back on the slide of her pistol, then
release it. She went over to the sliding door and opened it. "Time to eject some
homewreakers."
//Second Base to Pitcher. We have a problem.//
The Strike team leader raised his hand to signal his partner to stop, then spoke
into the small throat mike. "What?"
"We have at least two people trying to reach the seventh floor by the stairs.
They're armed with silenced machine pistols, and Third Base is not responding to any
calls. I believe they've been taken out of the play."
"Damn." The attack on his team in the target apartment, and now this. The team
leader thought for a second, then started issuing orders. "Send two men to cover the
elevator, and hold your position. We'll be with you in three minutes."
"Understood. Second Base out."
The Team leader frowned. "Pitcher to Home Plate."
"Home Plate here," replied the voice of their employer. "Is there a problem?"
"We have Fan interference near Second Base, and Third Base is not responding to
signals. Do we continue?"
He heard a sigh. "Negative, Pitcher. I think I know the Fans in question. If you
cannot find the Strike Zone in two minutes, call a rainout."
"Understood, Home Plate. Pitcher out." The strike team leader looked at his partner
and motioned for him to continue. As they started off again, he growled into his mike,
"Pitcher to First Base. We have two minutes to find the target. Move!"
The seventh floor was quiet as Duncan and Sylia made their way down the corridor.
Duncan led the way, staying close top the right hand side of the hallway. Sylia was behind
him and off to his left, her pistol pointed towards the floor. She seemed at ease with
the situation.
Too at ease, thought Duncan. Like she's use to being in a fight. "Anyone on
this floor besides us?" he whispered to Sylia.
"No," she replied softly. "The building was recently renovated, and this floor
hasn't been let to rent yet."
Duncan nodded. "No innocent bystanders then to worry about, then?"
"None."
"The floor plans for this floor the same as the one below?"
"Yes."
They were close to an intersection now. The right hand hall led to the stairwell.
Duncan waved Sylia towards the wall. She responded quickly, her pistol now held close to
her head, ready to drop into a firing stance at the first sign of trouble. There's
something with her, he thought. There's no sign of fear or haste in her actions.
She's no stranger to violence. I wonder where she -
The sounds of soft footfalls interrupted his thoughts. There were at least two
of them, moving down the hall from the stairwell at a brisk jog. As they got closer,
he could hear other sounds, of leather being rubbed and metal softly rattling. Any
second now....
He held up an arm to signal Sylia to stay just as the fat barrel of a silenced
machine gun appeared in his sight. Moving quickly, Duncan reached out and grabbed the
barrel with his left hand, and yanked the weapon forward and down. As he did so, he
stepped into the hallway and snapped a short, but powerful, backfist into the gunner's
face.
There was a sharp crack as the man's nose broke, and the man staggered. Without
pausing, Duncan dropped his right hand onto the man's left shoulder, grabbed a handful
of the leather coat, and spun hard to his left. The gunner, already stunned by the
sudden attack, didn't resist the hip throw Duncan used.
As the first man hit the floor, Duncan continued his spin and fired a hard
sidekick into the surprised second gunman's solar plexus. As the man folded over,
Duncan clipped him with a hard right to the jaw, sending the man crashing into the
wall behind him. As the man bounced off the wall, Duncan hit him twice more. The man
collapsed without making a sound.
Duncan turned to find Sylia had taken the first man out of the fight. She'd placed
a knee between the man's shoulderblades, and had placed her pistol against the back of
his head. The man, his face bloodied from the broken nose, was lying there, unwilling
to move.
Sylia looked up at Duncan. "I thought we need someone to tell us what's going
on, don't you?"
Duncan looked at the second man, who was unconscious, then back at Sylia. "I
think you have a point," he said, smiling. He squatted next to the prisoner and looked
at him. "I'm only going to say this once," he said pleasantly. "I'm going to ask you
some questions, and you're going to answer them. If you don't, my friend here is going
to blow your brains out. Is that clear?"
The man nodded weakly.
"Good. Now, Who are you working for?"
The man mumbled something, and Duncan looked at Sylia. "He can't tell us anything.
Shoot him."
"I...said Graves!" the man cried out weakly. "We...we take our orders from...a...
a Mr. Graves!"
Duncan nodded. That would explain the presence of that Immortal Jason and he
had seen outside the building. "And who is this Graves?"
"Don't know...I don't know...always pays in cash after job."
"Why are you here?"
"We're suppose to...to retrieve a woman from the...the penthouse."
"What woman? What is this woman's name?"
"Don't know...Young woman, blonde, good...good looking...orders to retrieve her...
her alive at all costs. Anyone else in...penthouse...fair game..."
Duncan glanced up at Sylia. "Does that sound like anyone in the penthouse?"
She nodded slowly. "A guest. These people must be a GENOM black ops squad."
"How many in men are there in the building?" asked Duncan causally.
"Ten men...two four man teams, one two man team to...guard front... door." With
that, the man's eyes closed and he relaxed into unconsciousness.
"Thank you." Duncan straightened and went over to the other gunman. "Let's tie
these guys up and disarm them before they come around."
"How many have you taken out so far?" asked Sylia, following Duncan's lead in
using the gunman's coat belt to bind the men's arms behind their back.
"My friend and I already took out the two guarding the front entrance," replied
Duncan, rolling his man over to remove the pistol from its shoulder holster. "That means
that there should be six left."
Sylia looked sharply at him. "What friend?"
He waved towards the door leading to the stairwell. "He's currently occupying
the other half of the team right now."
"He's the one you went to meet?"
Duncan nodded. "I'm suppose to outflank our guests. Still want to come along?"
"I have other friends up there, friends who could be in serious trouble, if this
guy's telling the truth."
"Then, I suggest we get moving."
With that, they both started jogging towards the door leading to the stairwell.
Priss slowly leaned out of the door of the armory, ready to fire at any target
that presented itself. The corridor was silent and empty. So far, so good.
She slipped out into the corridor and ran towards the far end.
She quickly inputed the access code and the door slid open. There was no one
in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she stepped carefully into the hallway, aware
of the sounds she was hearing. The soft thud of boots, the rattling of metal and leather,
the muted tones, all told her that the intruders were still in the penthouse.
She slowly moved along the wall, pistol ready. She glanced into the library, which
was empty. The other door was the Computer room, where Linna and Natalia were. Good. No
one behind me.
Less then a meter from the end of the wall, she stopped and listened. As she did
so, she fixed the layout of this area of the apartment in her mind. This part of the
penthouse was used by Sylia as her business office. Across the hall from her, the solid
oak door leading to Sylia's study was still closed. The short corridor to Priss's left
lead to a small bathroom. Around the corner, the corridor widen out into the dining room.
She could hear at least two men moving through the dining room towards her. The
sounds were getting louder as the intruders were moving towards her. Any second now....
She spun around the edge of the wall, dropped to one knee and opened fire at
the two shadows that had been cautiously approaching. This time, she aimed at their
heads, and she didn't stop shooting.
Their reaction was quick. Even as both assassins tried to twist away from Priss'
fire, their machine pistols spat fire in her direction. As the last shell casing flew
from her pistol, Priss threw herself back into the safety of the side corridor a fraction
of a second before the intruder's fire reached her position. The corner disolved as
bullets tore into the wall. She felt something burn across her right calf, but she
didn't stop moving.
Priss dodged into the doorway of the library, reloaded quickly, pulled the slide
back on her pistol, and released it. She heard shouts, the sounds of something being
dragged away, the silence. Breathing heavily, she checked her calf, and grimaced at
the line of blood there. There was some pain, but not enough to stop her.
She waited. Ten seconds, then twenty, passed in silence. Moving slowly, she edged
her way to the corner and risked a quick look.
Nothing.
She stepped around the corner, pistol ready. There was no one in sight. There
were a number of shell casings on the floor, several still smoking. She spotted a small
pool of what looked like blood on the floor where one of the intruders had been standing.
I nailed one of them, but how badly?
She moved through the dining room slowly and carefully. Time for some offence.
Chapter 12
Emergency staircase - Lady633
April 10, 2036
12:10pm
Jason snapped a quick burst of machine pistol rounds up the stairs, then ducked
back as one of the men on the landing fired a burst back. I hate this. Where are you
Duncan?
Jason hated stalemates, and this was a stalemate. Neither side dared to push
the issue - the team upstairs were more concerned with holding their fellow comrades
escape route open, while Jason was only worried about keeping them busy long enough
to allow Duncan to sneak up on them.
The team had tried to use fragmentation grenades once, but Jason's quick reactions
in tossing the grenade back up the stairs before it exploded convinced then it wasn't a
good idea. Of course, if they throw several at a time, I'm in trouble. They hadn't
so far, but Jason doubted that would last.
He checked the machine pistol's magazine. Half full. That and two more mags
for the machine pistol, and four for the pistol. Not good.
Just then, he heard the emergency door upstairs slam open. He dropped the machine
pistol, and pulled the pistol from his belt. Shifting the strap holding the machine
pistol so the weapon was out of the way, he pointed the semiautomatic up the stairs and
waited.
As his pistol sights reached the landing above him, he heard someone grunt in
pain. The sound of a fist striking flesh echoed through the stairwell, followed with
another grunt of pain.
Someone stepped into Jason's sights. He hesitated long enough to identify the
target as an enemy, then fired twice. The built-in silencer turned the sounds into
loud coughs.
The Black ops member grunted in pain as one bullet plowed into his right thigh,
the other into his right arm. The pistol he'd been drawing fell from his numbed fingers.
Before he could finish falling, Duncan stepped into view and hit him with a short hard
right to the jaw.
As the unlucky man slumped to the ground, Jason relaxed. Duncan turned towards
him, a small smile on his face.
Jason replaced the pistol in his belt. "Took you long enough," he muttered. "Did
you stop to admire the scenery?"
"Not exactly. I was delayed."
"By what?"
Before Duncan could reply, a strikingly attractive woman stepped into view,
holding a semiautomatic pistol.
"Never mind." Jason shook his head. "Must be the Macloed charm."
Duncan knelt next to the wounded opponent. "Your shooting's improved."
"Not really," replied Jason, taking the steps two at a time. "I was aiming for
his head."
"You must be Duncan's friend," said the woman cooly.
Duncan motioned towards the woman. "Jason, this is Sylia Stingray, owner of the
building. Sylia, this is Jason Storm, a friend of mine."
"Nice to meet you," replied Sylia. There was a faint hint of suspicion in her
tone of voice and a narrowing of her eyes Jason recognized as threat assessment.
"Likewise." Jason glanced at the gun she was holding. "Do you know how to use
that thing?"
"Not as well as you can, but well enough." The suspicion became more pronounced.
Working quickly, Duncan pulled free the unfortunate man's coat belt and looped
over the man's arm until it was above the wound. He pulled it tight, checking the flow
of blood. "Hand me the other belt," he directed Jason. Jason did so, after removing the
unconscious man's weapons. Duncan used the second belt to stem the blood from the leg
wound.
Duncan stood. "That's six accounted for. The other four must be upstairs."
Jason looked up from reloading his machine pistol. "Six?"
"We ambushed two others heading for the elevators," replied Sylia.
"Oh." Jason quickly stripped the extra machine pistols and semiautomatics down
to their component parts and scattered most of them around the landing. He pocketed
the extra magazines. "Now what?"
"We go upstairs."
"I knew you were going to say that."
"Then why did you ask?"
"Someone had to." Jason moved towards the stairs leading up. "I'm on point."
Sylia's Apartment
April 10, 2036
12:11pm
The Team leader was pissed.
The entire operation had fallen apart, and he didn't like the way it had done
so. With the exception of the others in the penthouse, he'd lost contact with his
entire team. Now he was caught between two groups of unknowns, and time was running
out. They had to withdraw.
He keyed his mike. "Pitcher to Home Plate."
//Home Plate here.//
"I'm calling a Rainout. Fan interference has reached Second Base, and there's
no sign of the Strike Zone. I have one player that's been spiked. Request Pinch Hitter
be sent in."
//Understood, Pitcher. Pinch Hitter is on their way. ETA, four minutes.//
"Roger, Home Plate. We're moving."
Unknown Location
April 10, 2036
12:12pm
Hunter One stalked into the control room, anger carved into her face. "What's
happened?" she asked coldly.
Jager One turned to face her. "Storm and Macloed met about twenty minutes ago
at the Shinto shrine."
"Any chance of sending the Boomers in?"
The man shook his head. "Too public a place. Besides, they're not there anymore."
"Where are they right now?"
"They're in a building called the Lady633, about three and half blocks from the
shrine." He motioned to a viewscreen that showed a scene with police cars and fire engines
in front of a multistory building. "Apparently they've gone inside the building to stop
some sort of terrorist attack."
"Why?"
"We don't know, but this man may have something to do with it." Jager One tapped
a button and the screen to the right of the main screen displayed a photo of a man with
an angular well-tanned face, cold eyes, and short, jet-black hair flecked with gray
looking at something off to his left. "Our people spotted him outside the building just
before the attack started, but lost him five minutes later."
"Graves," said Hunter One coldly.
"You know him?"
"I know of him. He's an Immortal."
Jager One frowned. "I don't recall seeing a file on him."
"You won't, unless you dig deep. When it comes to covering tracks, there's no
one better then him."
"What do you know about him?"
The woman exhaled noisily. "Not much. He has called himself Graves for most of
the last three hundred years. His first death occurred sometime before the tenth century.
Was taught by several older Immortals, including Rebecca Horn, and is a better then
average swordsman. Like Storm, he prefers the shadows, only he stays there. The best bet
is he's working for one of the Megacorps in their covert ops section, probably GENOM's."
"Is he on our list?"
Hunter One shook her head. "He's too elusive a target to be taken out at the
current time. Besides, he no doubt has access to resources we can't match. If we miss
him the first time, we'll never get a second chance"
"What about Macloed and Storm?"
"Keep tabs on them, especially Storm. If he leads us back to his hideout, send
two Boomer teams in to take him out. I want Macloed's room at the hotel bugged, and a
close watch kept on him and Amanda."
Jager One frowned. "That's going to stretch our resources to the limit. We may
have to delay the first wave of 'Operation Purge'."
"No. The first wave will go as planned."
The man took a deep breath. Hunter One looked at him, waiting for the protest
she knew was on his lips. Instead, Jager One nodded slowly. "If we stagger the first
wave slightly, we can make the timetable with minimal delay."
"Very well. If our people lose Storm, you can have the two Boomer teams back for
the first wave."
"Fair enough."
The woman turned towards the exit. "Keep me informed of any new developments."
"I will." Jager One waited until the woman left the control room before he turned
and began contacting the field units.
Chapter 13
Outside Lady633 building
April 10, 2036
12:14pm
"Ok," growled Leon McNichol, "What do we have?"
The ADP lieutenant, a lanky woman by the name of Iwazaki, glanced over at him.
"When did you arrive?" she asked, surprised at the sudden appearance of her superior
behind the car she was crouched behind.
"Just now. Daley's parking the car. What's the story?"
"We're not certain," Iwazaki said. "Dispatch received a phone call from the owner
of the building here." she pointed at the building across the street. "They reported an
attack by terrorists. When we arrive, we found two men in the lobby, unconscious, with
their hands secured with their own coat belts."
"Any ID on them?"
Iwazaki shook her head. "But they had been packing at one time -- both were wearing
empty shoulder holsters and one had a magazine for a machine gun in his coat pocket.
Whoever slugged them took their guns with them."
"What's the status inside the building?"
"Ground floor is secured. There's two squads, designated as Sweep Alpha, searching
the second floor, two more squads, designated Sweep Beta, are securing the third floor,
and two more, call sign Sweep Gamma, are getting set to move in to start on the fourth."
"Good. What about innocent civilians? The last thing we need is a damn hostage
situation."
"We don't know. The building is a mix of businesses and private apartments. We don't
have a hard count. The sweep teams have orders to locate and evacuate any civilians they
come across."
"This stinks," growled Leon. "And it's getting worse by the minute."
Iwazaki nodded. "The only good news is that we have so far is that there's no reports
of bodies."
"Keep thinking those happy thoughts."
Leon turn to see Daley dash over to them. "Did I miss anything?" the redhead asked.
"You missed the volunteering to go in and help sweep the building for the bad guys,
so I volunteered for both of us."
Daley sighed. "I knew I should have let you park the car."
"Who's the squad leaders for the two going in?"
"Kincade and Kuroda," replied Iwazaki.
"Oh wonderful," muttered Daley. "The odd couple."
"They're not so bad," replied Leon easily.
"Only when they're not trying to kill each other."
"You're exaggerating."
Daley looked at him. "It's your fault – you're the one who told them that if they
had a problem with each other, they should settle it in the ring."
"How was I suppose to know they'd turn it into a weekly event?"
"I lost five yen to Franks on that last fight," muttered Iwazaki.
Just then, Julian Weiss, the detachment's CO dashed over to them. "You taking over,
Sirs?" he asked.
"Nope," replied Leon, pulling out his Redhawk and double checking the cylinder.
"We're going it."
Daley sighed. "I was hoping for a nice, quiet night," he said softly. "You, me, a
nice bottle of wine. . . . "
"I'm a beer man."
"I know, but I can dream, can't I?"
"Anyone fire on us yet from inside the building?"
Weiss shook his head. "We've heard something that sounded like explosions coming
from inside, but we're not sure where or how many there are."
"Any boomers?"
Again, Weiss shook his head. "The two guys we have in custody are one hundred
percent human."
"All right," said Leon, looking at Daley. "You go with Kuroda. I'll go with
Kincade." He glanced at the other two ADP officers. "I want a tight perimeter. Nobody
in or out without your direct orders. Any chance of landing a team on the roof?"
"Not for at least twenty minutes," replied Iwazaki. "We're having to shift assignments
on the fly to free up a helicopter. We've got one coming in, but...." She trailed off in
embarrassment.
"So it's Standard Operating Procedure?" growled Leon. "Hope the bad guys don't have
bigger weapons then you, request that reinforcements show up right now, and pray you
survive long enough for them to arrive, right?"
"That about sums it up," replied Weiss glumly.
"Wonderful." Leon closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at his partner. "Ready
to roll?"
Daley shrugged. "I suppose saying 'no' is out of the question?"
"It is."
"Then, I'm ready."
The two ADP inspectors leapt up and dashed toward the besieged building. Behind
them, they heard a large clatter as a dozen or so assault rifles were brought to bear
on the Lady663. Despite that there hadn't been any gunfire directed at the cordon, both
men ran in a staggered weave and half crouch until they reached the glass doors. A pair
of ADP troopers were waiting for them there, holding extra body armor and shotguns.
Moving quickly, Leon and Daley donned the armor and took possession of the shotguns.
"What's the search teams status?" Daley asked.
"Second and third floors are secured," said one of the troopers. "We're getting
ready to move up and search the fourth."
"Fine," said Leon, as he loaded the shotgun. "I'm heading up Sweep Alpha. Daley,
you've got Sweep Beta."
"How do you want to do this?" asked Daley.
"I want Sweep Beta to leap-frog over us and secure the fourth floor," Leon said
to Dailey. "Sweep Alpha is to hold position on the third until you're clearing the fourth
floor, then they'll leapfrog over and take the fifth floor. Gamma will move up behind us,
to guard the highest floor we've cleared. Once the fourth floor is secured, Beta can sweep
the sixth floor. We'll take the penthouse with both Alpha and Beta teams, with Gamma in
reserve. Any questions?"
"Just one," replied the redheaded inspector. "Why did I ever let you talk me into
this?"
"Just part of my charm. Let's move out."
Emergency staircase - Lady633
April 10, 2036
12:15pm
The three of them reached the top landing without any trouble. Jason was leading
the way, a silenced automatic pistol in his hands, and two machine guns slung over a
shoulder. Next came Duncan, who was still eschewing any of the captured weapons. Sylia
brought up the rear, her attention divided between her surroundings and her two 'allies'.
They stopped at the fire door and Jason opened it slightly to scan the area just on the
other side. A wisp of something acrid tickled Sylia's nose and she recognized it as the
smell given off by a certain type of plastic explosive after it had been detonated.
Is this 'Jason' the one that helped Natalia?, Sylia asked herself, trying to
ignore her own fears of what they would find. If so, why? And who are these two, really?
They've clearly been in combat situations before...
Jason closed then door and looked at Sylia. "Where is the front door of the pent-
house in relation to this door?" he asked softly
"Down the hall, to the right."
"Thought so."
"What did you see?" asked Duncan.
"Blown door, right about where the lady said the Penthouse's front door is suppose
to be. From the odor, they used C-29 plastique, at least two blocks worth. No other
activity in the hallway."
"How do you want to do this?"
Jason glanced over at Sylia again. "How many friendlies inside?"
"Three."
"Any of them liable to give the intruders trouble?"
Sylia nodded. "Two of them know how to fight. I'm not sure about the other."
"I don't suppose you'll stay here and defend the stairs?" Sylia managed a scowl.
"Thought so," continued Jason, then smiled at Duncan. "You certainly know how
to pick them, Macleod."
"Can we continue this at a latter date?" asked Sylia cooly.
"Fine by me." With that, Jason opened the door slowly, then slipped into the hall-
way. Sylia followed, then Duncan, who closed the door behind them silently. There was
smoke and thick dust everywhere, making it hard to see and hear anything. Sylia felt
the urge to cough, but ruthlessly suppressed the demand her body was trying to make.
Her friends and a girl needed her help.
Jason left the other two crouched next to the stairwell door and slowly crept
to the destroyed penthouse entranceway, stopping just short of the hole. He laid down
on his stomach and leaned slowly out so he could see into the penthouse itself. After
a very brief look, he pulled back, got to his feet and moved back to where Sylia and
Duncan were waiting for him. He looked back at Sylia. "Any males in the apartment?" he
asked in a very soft whisper that couldn't be heard more then a meter away.
Sylia shook her head. Jason nodded, then looked at Duncan. "Three males," he
said in the same soft whisper, holding up three fingers. "Narrow hall two meters in
length, enemy four meters beyond that. I'll go left and low, you go right and high,
and she can cover us in case we need it." He glanced over at Sylia. "We know what
we're doing – "
"Speak for yourself," muttered Duncan, "It's been years since I've done this."
"-- just follow our lead," Jason finished, ignoring Duncan. He unslung one of
the machine pistols and handed it to Duncan, along with two clips of ammo. "Use this –
I don't think our friends in there are in a mood to check to see if we're packing or
not."
Duncan took the machine pistol, checked the bolt and loaded magazine, all the
time looking displeased. "I hate using these."
"I don't think they'd be any more impressed if you charged in waving a katana
like a misplaced Samurai." Duncan shot Jason a warning look, but Sylia had already
picked up the sword reference.
As they stated back down the hall, Sylia decided that she would find out all
she could about these two as soon as she could. Something told her that there was more
going on then she knew, something involving these two, the girl in her apartment, and
this black Ops team. She just didn't know what....
Fifth Floor -- Lady633 building
April 10, 2036
12:18pm
The ADP team moved through their search with quick, methodical precision. Despite
their continual losses in Boomer rampages, these troopers were the equal of most major
countries' soldiers, and superior to almost all Third World nation's militias in training
and skill. Their problem was the most common opponent the ADP faced was superior to
virtually any other troops in the world. Combined with substandard equipment and political
interference, they were hamstrung and forced to fight battles no same commander would
tolerate, taking losses that would cripple most units. Far from being the blast-happy
goons the press made them out to be, these were men and women who took their job seriously,
and did their best with what they were given.
The search was an example of the skill. With only a little prompting from Leon
and Dailey, the ADP troopers moved through the lower floors in a matter of minutes,
securing all stairwells and elevator shafts. The troopers used the stairwells, moving
swiftly and carefully up to the next floor. Despite not seeing any hostiles, they took
no chances. Each room on a floor was carefully checked by three-man search teams, with
another team securing the hall. Locked doors were ruthlessly smashed opened and the
content of the rooms checked. The few civilians that were found in the building were
quickly searched and led down to the street, their names taken down, their identity
verified, then released. Outside the building, the ADP secured the perimeter with the
help of the N-police, keeping the crowd away from any possible gun battles.
Inside the building, Leon's team had just moved onto the fifth floor. He tensed
as he saw the glint of spent bullet casing scattered across the landing, and smell of
gunpowder reached his nostrils. The floor and wall was pock-marked with bulletholes,
and very recently made. Leaving a search team to hold the stairwell against a possible
ambush from the floor above, the Inspector led the rest onto the fifth floor proper.
With a few had signals, he directed the troopers to begin the search. In less then ten
seconds only him and Kincade, the team leader were in the hall.
"I don't like this," muttered Kincade, a short ugly man who had ended up as a
team leader because he had outlived most of those who had been in the command structure
above him. He shifted his rifle to a slightly less threatening position. "No ambushes,
no bobby traps, no nothing but that mess on the landing out there. Are you sure this
isn't a hoax of some type?"
"No," replied Leon softly. "But the two we found in the lobby didn't look like
they were laughing, were they?"
"Nope," admitted Kincade. "But this attack ain't making a lot of sense to me.
What's so bloody important about this building?"
"I don't think the building is the target itself, but the person who owns the
building."
"Who owns the building?"
"One Sylia Stingray."
Kincade frowned. "Related to Doctor Stingray? The damn fool who created the
Boomers?"
"The same." Leon glanced up and down the corridor. "Her and her brother live
in the penthouse on top."
"You think it's a kidnaping attempt?"
"Possibly. Or an assassination attempt."
"Shit," spat Kincade. "Then why are we screwing around on the lower floors then
if the bastards are in the penthouse?"
"We don't know the bastards are in the penthouse."
Leon's radio came to life. //Beta Six to Alpha Six,// said Dailey.
"Alpha Six. What do you have?"
//Nada. Fourth floor secured and we're getting ready to move up to the sixth.//
"Right. We've found signs of a gunfight up here, so stay lose. I'll tell our
people to expect you."
//See you in a couple. Beta Six Out.//
One of the troopers guarding the stairwell stuck his head out. "Sir!" he hissed.
Leon and Kincade trotted back to the stairwell door. "What is it?" Leon asked
in a soft voice.
"We can hear something in the stairwell on the floor above us," the trooper
replied.
"What sort of something?"
"Something moving or scraping against the floor. We can't see anything up there
from this angle, and we want permission to go up and take a look."
"Wait one," Leon replied, keying the make on his radio. "Daley, can you send up
a couple of teams right now? We have movement on the sixth floor."
//We're on out way up.// The sounds of boots on the stairway below Leon and the
others confirmed Daley's words. Kuroda, the young, if not the overly eager, squad leader
lead his men up. He nodded to Leon, an improvement from the first time when he'd saluted
his superior in the middle of a firefight with a boomer. He'd learned from that mistake
quickly. Daley was the last man up.
"Right," said Leon briskly. "Daley, I want two of your fire teams to stay on this
floor, one here on the stairwell, the other out in the hall supporting my other teams.
One team with me. The rest stay here."
Covered by two ADP troopers, Leon lead a fire team up the flight of stairs.
Halfway up the stairway, he spotted something lying on the landing above him. He
stopped and look back at Daley, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. While
the others cover the landing, Leon, using hand signals, as he was too close to a
possible enemy, directed Daley to have another team ready to follow his team upstairs
as fast as possible. Daley nodded an understanding, and Leon turned back to the problem
at hand. With a glance at his team, he hissed, "Go!" and charged up the stairs.
He reached the top step half a step ahead of the rest and began taking in the
scene before him, even as his tactical mind and shotgun searched for possible ambushers.
Two of his team went for the door leading to the sixth floor, while the third team member
covered the steps leading to the seventh. Moving quickly, the two by the door yanked it
over and surveyed the hallway over the sights of their rifles. "Clear," the senor man
of the two said.
"Clear," said the women covering the stair to the seventh floor.
Leon looked around the landing. There was an odor of gunpowder and explosives in
the air, stronger then below, and the bullet holes in the wall were in addition to the
scarring that is usually the result of grenades. Two bodies were lying on the floor,
dressed the same way as the two in the lobby had been. One was flat on his stomach, the
start of an ugly bruise covering the left side of his face. The other was slumped near
the stairs, his right arm and leg soaked with blood.
By now, two more fire teams were up the stairs, one team moving to relieve the
pair covering the door, while the other started to examine the pair of bodies lying
on the floor. Leon pointed his shotgun towards the floor and turned to Daley, who had
followed the second team up. "Call for medics." The red-headed Inspector nodded and
began talking on his radio.
"This guy's alive," said one of the troopers examining one of the bodies. "He's
just out like a light."
Leon glanced over at the other body, Slumped against the wall near the top of
the stairs. "What's his status?"
"This guy's been shot at least twice," Kincade muttered, kneeling by the body
and checking for a pulse. "He's alive," he announced in a sour tone, "but he ain't
going anywhere for a while."
Leon felt something hit his boot. He glaceed down in puzzlement at the oddly shaped
metal part he'd just kicked, then reached down and picked it up. "What do you have?"
Daley asked him.
"Looks like a pistol barrel," Leon replied, turning the cylinder in his fingers.
"It is," Kincade replied. "Looks like it belongs to a GENOM--Beretta model." He
pointed at other metal pieces scattered around the landing. "Looks like someone didn't
want to lug along extra weapons."
Leon and Daley glanced around. "Do you see any ammo magazines?" Leon asked.
"Nope," replied Daley. "Think someone took them?"
"They must of. The only thing I can think of is whoever attacked the two in the
lobby didn't have any weapons of their own, so they took them off the guys downstairs,
come up here and got into a fight with these two, beat them, and took their ammo magazines."
"Leaving the extra weapons in pieces behind them?"
Leon rubbed his temple with his free hand. "This isn't making any sense."
"Since when did ANYTHING in the city make sense?" Daley asked.
"Well, this is making less sense the usual."
Another one of Daley's teams reached the landing, and Kuroda sent them and another
team to start searching the sixth floor. Another team covered the stairwell going up.
Everyone was on edge.
So when the sounds of shots coming from the floor above, all eyes swung to look
at the ceiling. "Daley, stay here!" Leon shouted, charging the staircase leading upwards.
"Kincade, you three, follow me!" The four officers raced after the Inspector.
Daley turned to Kuroda. "Get the rest of Leon's troops up here ASAP!"
"But, what about the rest –"
"Screw that! Get them up here and now!" Another exchange of shots could be heard
coming from upstairs. Mostly pistols from the sound of it, Daley thought, but there's
a couple of machine guns involved also. Must be the rest of the hit team.
Kuroda started relating the orders though his radio. The redheaded Inspector
opened his own mike. "Harris! Nakasana!" he called out, using the name of the team
leaders searching the sixth floor. "Discontinue your search and cover the elevators!"
//Understood Sir,// one of the team leaders replied. //Be advised that we have
two suspects in custody, in about the same condition as the two out on the landing.//
Daley's attention was elsewhere before he could take stock of the statement. "The
first teams will be here in less then thirty seconds!" Kuroda called out.
"Stay here!" Daley commanded the young squad leader. "I'm going up with the next
two teams. I want you to use another team to help secure floor, but I want everyone up
upstairs ASAP!"
"Right!" Kuroda snapped back.
A door on the landing below slammed opened and the sound of at least half a dozen
pair of boots started up the stairs. A trio of ADP troopers quickly came into sight,
with another team right on their heels.
"You two teams, follow me!" Daley called out, dashing for the stairs. The half a
dozen police officers were right on his heels.
Sylia's Apartment
April 10, 2036
12:18pm
Priss crouch walked down the hall to the dining room. She glanced inside, her
eyes quickly sweeping the room. No one in sight.
She darted into the room, staying low and coming in at an angle. Though this
type of combat wasn't really her style, months of practice and lessons from Sylia were
now paying off in execution. She had managed to drive the intruders back from the part
of the floor that housed the Saber's headquarters, but they were still out there and
still dangerous.
As she crouched there, she considered her options. There were two other doorways
besides the one she had come through. To her right was the access to the living room,
while a par of glass doors located on the opposite wall from where she had come in lead
out onto the patio and pool area. After a few seconds, she decided to enter the living
room – there was more cover then on the exposed patio, no door to open and alert someone,
and gave her the element of surprise.
She hoped.
Staying low, she reached the edge of the doorway and glanced around the edge.
Two figures, wearing black suits were in the center of the room, while a third was
halfway laying on the couch. Even in the gloom, Priss could see the blood on the couch.
The two standing were changing magazines in their machine guns, while the one on the
couch was slapping a bandage over a wound in his right thigh. They didn't say a word,
but moved with crispness that suggested to the singer that they were very well trained.
She looked towards the main door, still smoky from the forced entrance. Where the
hell is the calvary? She thought. Even the ADP should be here by now!
One of the men standing finished loading his weapon and started speaking into
a small microphone attached to a headset he was wearing. His voice was too low for
Priss to hear what he was saying, but by his expression and manner, he wasn't happy.
Aw, ain't that too bad, Priss thought. Her pistol came up as she aimed at the
evident leader. Let's see if I can ruin your day even more....
Just then, the man on the couch snarled, "Dining room!" and snatched his machine
pistol from it's place on the couch. Even as Priss shifted to fire at him, the other
two intruders dove for the floor, their own machine pistols firing in Priss's direction.
"Shit!" Priss threw herself away from the doorway, the twin streams of lead chewing
up large chunks of plaster and paint. As soon as the firing stopped, she stuck her pistol
around the corner and fired off several blind shots in their direction.
Just then, she head a new series of pistol shots coming from the front door of
the penthouse. They were quickly answered by machine gun fire, and Priss didn't have
to guess that help had arrive.
Now who the hell is it? she thought.
Something landed on the floor near the doorway and she looked down at it. Even
as her mind screamed Grenade!, her body, honed by years of living on the street and
fighting boomers, threw herself away from the doorway as far and as fast as she could.
All of a sudden, there was a flash of light and a loud explosion....
Chapter 14
Two blocks from Lady633 Building
April 10, 2036
12:19pm
The rooftop Graves was using as a command post didn't give the Immortal a perfect
view of the Lady633 building, but it was a good enough for him to see the penthouse.
He watched the target building through a pair of binoculars, picking up the
occasional flashes of gunfire and listening to the high-pitched 'cracks' made by the
bullets.
He sighed and lowered his binoculars. It appeared that this wasn't going to be
as easy as he thought. For one, it appeared that the girl was protected by a competent
bodyguard. He should expected as much from the penthouse's owner. Sylia Stingray was
a well-known woman in the city, both because of her wealth and the fact she was the
daughter of the man who had created the boomer. The intelligence had indicated only
light defenses, but it appeared that had been a gross understatement. It also appeared
that Miss Stingray had not relied on her father's creations in her security plans –
the opponents the team had faced were clearly human, even the trio of Immortals that
had suddenly appeared out of nowhere....
The fact that he recognized all three Immortals wasn't blind luck: he had encounter
two of them before, while the third was a well known figure in the ranks of those who
took Quickenings. Amanda and Jason Storm were known variables, dangerous but not impos-
sible to defeat. Duncan Macleod, on the other hand, was not as well known a factor. Yes,
he was well known, but all Graves knew about the man was what was written on paper. He
was part legend, part mystery man. He was going to have to meet the man to gauge him
correctly, and the sooner, the better.
Graves glanced up as a helicopter passed overhead, making towards the Lady633
building. The extraction team going in to retrieve the strike team. It had never occurred
to Graves to leave the strike team out to dry. To him, the team was a useful tool, not
to be discarded unless there was no other option. This had the effect of making him a
trustworthy employer among those in the mercenary field, which allowed him to chose
the best teams for the missions.
As he watched the helicopter fly towards the extraction point, his mind drifted
back to another helicopter, fourteen years ago....
MegaTokyo, 2022
There were only six men in the helicopter's cargo bay as it flew towards it's
destination. Graves sat near the cargo door, next to the three-man GENOM security team.
The fifth man was a thin man with a large nose and half closed eyes, clutching a large
briefcase in his hands like it was a life preserver. The sixth man sat nearest the
cockpit, his eyes closed. Each man was wearing a headset, as this particular helicopter
design did not share the insulated or soundproofing of the more traditional passenger
choppers. With the exception of some background noise, the channel was silent for most
of the trip.
Just as Graves began to think they had somehow missed the target, the pilot said
over the internal channel, "Mr. Mason, the ETA to the lab is one minute."
Brian J. Mason opened his eyes slowly. "Good," he said into his microphone. He
looked at Graves, his cold dark eyes taking in the Immortal's features. "Mr. Graves,"
he said, "Are your orders clear?"
"Yes sir," Graves replied, returning his corporate superior's glare. From the
beginning, there was a tension between the two men. Both recognized the other as a
possible threat to their position inside GENOM, so their conversations became clashes
of will as one tried to establish his superiority over the other. So far, neither man
had managed more then a temporality victory, as Mason's intensity and position inside
GENOM was offset by Graves' long life and long experience with kings and other powerful
people. In addition, Graves had proved himself to be perfect for jobs like the one they
were on right now. "Is there any addition to those orders?"
"I will speak to Doctor Stingray alone" Mason replied.
"Of course sir." Graves didn't let his thoughts show on his face. Mason was a
sadist, and while their orders included the elimination of the good Doctor, Graves
didn't like the idea of Mason giving himself the task. Graves had killed many times
over the centuries, but he didn't prolong the pain or take pleasure in their suffering.
Mason would do both.
No matter. His task, and the task of the security team under his command was to
guard the man with the briefcase. The man, whose name on this mission was "Mr. Brown",
sole responsibility was to crack Wiz Laboratories' computer system and extract data
from them.
Graves looked at the trio of security men. They were all hard types, men who sold
their lethal skills to the highest bidder. Like the Cracker, each man had a briefcase,
only the contents weren't papers and other office clutter. Unlike the content's of Brown's
briefcase, the contents of the security men were compact 10mm machine pistols, extra
magazines, and several packs of C-9 plastic explosives. Each man also wore a 10mm pistol
in either shoulder or belt holsters. They weren't quite armed for war, but against the
mostly empty and lightly guarded target, the firepower would be adequate.
Graves closed his eyes. In a few minutes, they would land and in one night, change
the future, all because of a man named Quincy....
Present
Several small explosions interrupted Graves' memories. He glanced through the
binoculars in the direction of the Lady633 building. Evidently, the defenders were not
willing to allow his men to retreat without a fight. The door gun was firing into the
penthouse, and several blasts of gunfire answered back.
He lowered the binoculars and turned away. The mission has failed this time, but
there would be other chances, other time. Miss Stingray, he thought, it seems that you
are not as naive as your father. I will take that into account next time....
Sylia's Apartment
April 10, 2036
12:19pm
Sylia fired off another pair of shots at the figure who was using one of the
chairs in the living room for cover. His reply of a dozen shots from his machine pistol
forced Sylia to stand deep in the doorway she was using for cover. This is about the
last thing I ever expected, she thought grimly. Fighting to get INTO my penthouse!
The tactic that Jason suggested worked – after a fashion. The sudden appearance
of three armed opponents had caught the intruders off-guard, but they had reacted quickly.
Two of the black-clad intruders had immediately sprayed the entry hall with a hail of
machine gun fire, sending Sylia, Duncan, and Jason scrambling for cover. The other two,
one supporting his injured comrade, moved towards the glass doors and out of the direct
line of fire. One of the men had tossed a grenade into the dining room, the loud bang
and bright flash of light making Sylia wince at the destruction.
Across the hall from Sylia, Jason was answering with short burst from his own
machine pistol. Next to and behind him Duncan crouched, firing occasionally when a
target presented itself. "Now what?"Duncan asked in a low voice.
"We do this," Jason replied in the same low voice. He pulled out a grenade.
Sylia gave him a cold stare, but before she could say anything, Jason tossed the
grenade. The explosive tumbled through the air and landed just short of the two gunmen.
Even as the grenade landed, Jason was up and running after the grenade. Sylia stared
after him until Duncan hissed, "He never pulled the pin!" Even as the realization came
upon her, she found herself up and moving right behind Duncan.
The gunmen reacted like pros. Instead of holding their ground, they quickly
retreated after the other two, more concern with putting distance between them and
the grenade then stopping the rescue team. A short burst from one gunman shattered a
glass door, and the four dashed quickly through the still falling glass. Outside, the
two-man rear guard turned and fired back into the penthouse, discouraging any pursuit.
Jason reached the grenade he'd thrown earlier and scooped it up. With a flick
of his wrist, he pulled the pin, and with a quick throw, flung it out the broken glass
door. "Drop!" he yelled, taking his own advise and went prone. Duncan and Sylia manage
to hit the floor before a sharp 'crack' and a blinding light assaulted them.
Through the haze and her suddenly muffled hearing, Sylia though she heard a
helicopter. She blinked the after images away, trying to put her scrambled thoughts
together. A flash/bang grenade, she thought. A pretty powerful one too. She glanced
over at Duncan, who looked like he had shaken off the effects of the flash/bang grenade
quicker then she had.
She slowly got to her knees, her mind beginning to clear, only to be roughly
hauled down again. Before she could demand an explanation, the wall behind her was
torn apart by heavy slugs. They were both showered with dust and bits of wall. The
air was heavy with the sounds of machine guns and the shuddering beat of a helicopter's
engine.
In the distance, Sylia could hear Jason shout "They've got a gunship!" Giving
Duncan a quick glance, Sylia started crawling towards the glass doors. Another bust
of machine gun fire finished what was left of the glass on this side of the penthouse,
forcing her to roll behind a chair.
Her mind was clearing now, the dullness draining from her like sand from a broken hour-
glass. She glanced around the side of the chair in the direction of the gunfire.
Outside the shattered glass doors, a helicopter hovered over the far edge of the
pool. The analytical part of her mind noted it was a sleek military-type design, pained
dull black with no identifying numbers. Midway of the fuselage, under the twin, counter
rotating sets of helicopter blades, a man in gear similar to the ones who had been inside
the penthouse was manning a multi-barrel cannon, firing into her home with long bursts.
Next to and behind the door gunner, another figure in black was firing an assault rifle
at the overturned pool-side table. She saw Jason crouched behind the table, popping up
to fire short bursts at the helicopter less then ten meters away before dropping back
to the dubious safety of the table.
The retreating strike team was getting onto the helicopter, protected by the
aircraft's bulk and their teammate's suppressing fire. One man stepped from behind
the helicopter and threw an object sidearm, to avoid the whirling blades. The object
skipped twice on the patio before it bounced through the shattered doors and into the
room. Sylia had just enough time to see it was a grenade of some type before it exploded
in a massive amount of think green smoke.
Off to her right, she heard someone moving. She spun in that direction, her pistol
up and tracking, only to see Duncan fire off several rounds into the expanding smoke
screen before dropping down next to her.
"Now what?" she shouted, the gunfire and the helicopter's engine making normal
conversation impossible.
"I don't know!" he shouted back.
The pitch of the chopper's engine changed. The virtual gale swept the green smoke
into the penthouse, blinding the pair and making breathing almost impossible. With a
scream of power, the roar of the helicopter began to fade. Sylia wanted to send on last
volley of shots at them, the people who had despoiled her penthouse, and shattered her
sanctuary, but the smoke prevented that. She had no choice. She had to let them go....
The first thought that crossed Priss' awareness was the blinding pain of a head-
ache that compared to some of her worse hangovers. Her sight was blurry and there was
a roaring in her ears that didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.
In short, she felt like shit.
Her mind tried to sort itself out, concentrating on the last several minutes.
Sylia's penthouse....invaders....shootout....grenade?
She was lying on her back, splinters and pieces of glass covering her like a
fine mist. Her right hand was empty, and she frantically felt around for several seconds
before she found the pistol she had dropped in the explosion.
While her mind was coming to grips with itself, Priss' body began regaining
feeling. And the feelings it was sending her were ones of soreness, discomfort, with
a sprinkling of pain. She rolled over onto her hands and knees, then with the exaggerated
carefulness used by drunks and people in great discomfort, got onto her feet.
Her mind was coming back up to speed, though it was far from sharp. Her hearing,
dulled by the closeness of the flash-band grenade, made everything she heard sound distance
and muffled. Her eyes was still trying to blink away the sparkling globes of light that
flittered across her sight. But she was up, armed and dangerous.
She looked out what had been the sliding doors leading out onto the pool deck,
though the explosion had shattered the glass. She squinted in the sunlight, taking in
the sight before her.
A helicopter, looking more liked a black blob to her eyes, was lifting into the
air. Movement from behind an overturned pool-size table brought her rapidly increasing
senses into action. A figure that had been behind the pool-size table stood, watching
the helicopter as it picked up speed.
Priss, still on an adrenalin high and still suffering for the effects of the flash-
bang grenade, came to the following conclusions:
The figure was a man.
She did not know this man.
This man was armed with a machine pistol.
Therefore, the man was an enemy, left behind by his friends.
Priss snapped her pistol up, targeted the man, and opened fire.
The sound of pistol fire startled Sylia, who was still taking in the devastation
that had once been her home. She turned just in time to see Jason, who had been shooting
at the helicopter, get hit with several bullets. As he fell onto his back, Sylia could
see the front of his shirt was soaked in blood. Off to her right, Duncan spun in the
direction of the windows, his expression one of horror.
From where she was standing, Sylia couldn't see anyone at first. Whoever it was,
they had fired from the dining room, through the glass doors leading out to the pool.
Slowly, a pistol muzzle came into view, then a hand, followed by a familiar leather-
clad arm. Out of the corner of her eye, Sylia saw Duncan bring up his pistol, his
target –
"Don't shoot!" Sylia shouted, moving towards Duncan. "She's a friend!"
Duncan lowered his pistol as Priss staggered into view and turned toward them.
She was covered in dust, her face streaked with dirt and sweat, and her eyes were
unfocused. Sylia could see some blood around the Priss' ears, and the singer staggered
slightly.
"Priss!" Sylia shouted, moving toward her teammate.
The singer stopped and swayed. "Hey," she whispered, or at least it sounded like
a whisper to Sylia.
Just then, a swarm of ADP troopers came pouring into the room, lead by Leon.
"Everybody Freeze!" he yelled. Duncan and Sylia stooped to placed their weapons on
the ground, the stood straight again.
Priss let her pistol fall out of her hand and hit the floor. Her eyes were still
glassy, but she tried to give Leon a cold stare. "You're late again," she said, her
voice slurred. She threw her arm up in the direction the helicopter had gone. "They've
already left."
"Traffic was a problem," the ADP inspector replied. "Now, will someone like to tell
me what in the hell is going on?"